


water against scorched rocks

by Blepbean



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - The Song of Achilles Fusion, Angst, Fate, Fluff, Had to twist canon a lot, M/M, Other, Prophecies, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, War, kinda works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blepbean/pseuds/Blepbean
Summary: Zuko was royalty, banished from the fire nation and set out to find the Avatar by himself. Nothing but a boat, he lands on the Southern pole and meets Sokka. As they grow together, Zuko begins to write his prophecy, to gain revenge on his father. But this means one thing: he will live and die by the blade.He came alive in front of me. Eyes full of flames that flickered. His hair. Face soft. The tendons of his neck, especially the one nearest to his shoulder. I’ve seen it, I’ve kissed it so many times, memorized it, I could find it with no trouble. If I could, I would find him if my sight had been taken away, just through the way he shivered under my light touch. If he wanted to, he would steal the words of poets and etch it to the stars, and each time I looked up I’ll know it was for me.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 41





	1. When he dies, all things soft

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I know that I wrote a wuko song of achilles but.... zukka song of achilles fic came to me.  
> 2\. Had to mess around with canon and mixed and merged that came from tsoa and atla, had to shorten a lot of stuff as well!! So soz I couldn’t fit everything.  
> 3\. This is written in 1st person, DONT LET THAT SCARE YOU. I’ve decided to stick close to the style of the song of Achilles, which was poetic writing style in 1st person  
> 4\. I’ll edit this later lol soz

I’m the only warrior in the Southern water tribe, and I feared that in any moment that black smoke would rise from their giant war ships. My sister’s power to harness the very waters would not be enough, she’s one of the last survivors of the waterbenders. I would be all bark but no bite, I hoped that it would be enough for the children to escape. 

My days are filled with snow and bored teachings to children, they stare at me in confusion. The elders think that passing down fighting techniques is useless, because I’m a mere shadow compared to actual warriors. But I do not care. Other times, I would fish with Katara. She would come back to the tribe with buckets of fish and a smile on her face.

I bite my lip. She can pull the waves on the shore like the moon can, yet all I have is a useless boomerang. Sometimes, my days are filled with me looking all heart-eyed at the girls who laugh as they stitch their coats. I would walk up to them, ask about their name, and describe how they’re literal gods descended from the heavens themselves.

They would slap me and it’ll leave a red mark on my face. Katara would laugh at me. _Tch_. No one appreciates me. 

One night when the moon was hidden well against the blackness of the sky I snuck out, I had nothing but my sack full of filtered water tucked against my coat. My boomerang is the only thing I can defend myself with, and perhaps my lantern, too. Back then, I was full of arrogance and naivety, that was my downfall then. A boy that held too much light, snuffed out by infernos that blazed

The snow picked up and it went up to my ankles, as if they told me to stop going. _Come back to your tribe, you could die and you would be nothing but bones and ash_ . I don’t care, I said. I don’t care. I don’t care. _I don’t care_. I began to see the sea in the horizon, it bled a dark blue. I squinted, the flame attempted to lick me through the glass. 

I trudged deeper. A boat showed itself on the sea, beached by the ice. It’s not like the giant, metal husks from the fire nation, it wasn’t the water tribe boats either, with giant blue sails. It was small, like it was made by the hands of a flimsy child. I walked closer. I peered to the boat with my lantern, the glow revealed nothing but ropes and two swords.

And a boy. 

A boy who’s asleep, with hair the colour of bronze, skin like porcelain. But what stood out was the giant red scar on his right eye. It didn’t sit ugly against his skin, instead it was like it was sculpted carefully, placed with a thousand thoughts. Maybe, he was born with it. I poked him with my boomerang, but he did not stir awake.

It’s strange, to see a boy dressed in black to be like this. When I put my lanter on the ground and began to shift the boy against my back I can already hear what Katara would say. _Stupid, stop thinking so impuslively!_ I don’t care. I somehow managed to balance all my things and walked back to the tribe all in one piece.

  
  
  


“Sokka,” my sister sighed, tone void of malice or annoyance. She brought a towel seeped with water, and she placed it over the boy’s forehead. I gave him my bed to rest, “ _why_.”

I shrug.

She groans, “I’m telling—”  
  


“Please don’t tell anyone,” I pleaded, I don’t want anyone hearing this, that I brought a foreign boy home to our little sanctum that we call home. I watched her shoulders relax, before she went back out into the night and left the both of us in the tent. I don’t know who he is, but he looks calm, safe, someone who wouldn’t hurt a living thing. 

The candle in the lantern flickered, it casted long shadows against his face. It sculpted his jawline, as if it was cut by the gods themselves. This boy was made with miles of skin, the tendons on his neck defined, but softened at the same time. The more I stare, the more I begin to pick up strange things about him. His body is similar as a baby’s, soft and straight out from the womb. Like he’s been locked away, sheltered by the horrors of the war.

Yet, the way he breathed and how he shifted, it was the opposite. It was erratic and defensive, like a hurt lion, with its leg broken as it roared to keep everyone away. This boy, this boy is an enigma, made of puzzling pieces that I don’t quite know. Something in me unravelled, and I found my thoughts full of how he would act. 

He has two swords, I brought them here, it laid on the ground. He’s a warrior, I want to see him come alive in battle. How would he move? I think; it would come natural to him like how he breathed. Or perhaps it would be more erratic, all power but no balance, like a bull that was blinded by rage.

I want to know him, like how I would know these icy lands like the back of my hand.

  
  
  
  


He rose early in the morning, Katara almost dropped the tea that she brewed. I came quickly, threw the tent door open and slammed it behind me. He woke up, full of confusion. He stood there, with two of his swords drawn. His hair is a bird’s nest, and the way that he breathed was choppy.

“Easy there fella,” I said, hands out. Katara bended the tea and shaped it into a crescent, the edge shone like a blade’s edge, “we’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Back off!”

“What’s your name?” I ask, next to me Katara trembled. I started to feel my fingers shake, but my voice boomed, I hope he didn’t notice my nerves, “we won’t do anything to you.”

“I said—”

“Why are you being so goddamn loud—”

“—Because I woke up in a tent instead of my boat!” He yelled, and his voice overpowered mine. Katara mumbled next to me, _why did you even bring him here?_

_I don’t know_.

She sighed.

“It’s chill, we’re calm and collected,” I said. It only added more flames to the fire, Katara snickered next to me, “what’s your name?”

“I’m not telling you mine.”

“So I see how it is,” I said, “no manners. I’ll tell mine first, my name is Sokka. My sister’s name is—”  
  
“Don’t tell him my name—”

“—Katara,” I smiled. Katara groaned. She took a step forward, though her footsteps were still shaky like mine.

“What am I doing here?” I felt the temperature in the room rise, strange.

I shrug, “because I care about people.”

“Like random strangers on a boat?”

“Yes?” I said.

Something in him shifted, like ancient rocks that shifted on the mountains, as well as his eyes, it looked like tempered fire, akin to molten gold, similar to the sun. I want to touch it, to see how it looked like in the sun, outside. Because the corner of his eyes crinkled and softened, as well as his face. The grip on his two swords loosens just a little bit.

It’s like how a child would react to kindness for the first time.

But his guard came up again, scowl reappeared and he raised his sword higher. Katara took another step.

“Please don’t kill each other,” I step between them.

“What are you doing Sokka!”

“Stopping this whole village from falling apart with your _stupid_ duel!”

“Oh please, this _waterbender_ won’t last a minute—”

“—what did you say!”

I grip his wrist, and a part of me waited for his sword to come down on me, to split me in half and let blood spill the walls. It didn’t. It was like my touch breathed a sense of life into him, like how spring came in distant lands and blessed the grass with flowers. He shifted a little, like warmth against ice.

He did not speak when I dragged him out of the tent, it was early in the morning, no one was up from their slumber. Behind me Katara groaned loudly in protest, while Zuko grew silent. He did not speak. But I’m a stubborn, unstoppable force. I’ll drag him halfway through the earth if I have to.

“Why do you care about me?” He asked, but it sounded like he asked that question for himself. Behind us the village was still large, the place that I called home started to look so small. 

“I don’t know?”

“You don’t know?” He said.

I did not have an answer for that, I kept my mouth shut as we walked closer to the water. The air is still, and waited for us to fill it with words. But it felt like my tongue was frozen cold, we drowned in silence, like one of the water tribe members long ago who wandered too far. It was a story from my Gran Gran. A boy who had his mother’s face—soft and pump—and his father’s steady confidence.

One day he heard of stories far away, that the Avatar was still alive and breathed the same air as us. He left in the middle of the night, and he yelled as a young man because he tasted freedom and pride for the first time. He already thought of how he’ll come home, _look, rejoice as I brought back the Avatar_. 

  
No one ever found him since he left fifty years ago. Katara’s eyes shone like she learned a lesson that was handpicked from the gods, I did not get it. 

My tongue finally felt free, and it ran away from me. I asked and asked and asked, words flowed from my mouth like the waterfalls that Gran Gran saw in the far lands, deep within the forest. This and this and this, I asked. _Where are you from? Are you a bender? Do you fight? How well do you fight? Can I see you fight?_

My words filled the air, and it rewarded us with a chill. He didn’t answer.

“What’s your name,” I asked again, in a softer voice.

He stopped. I stopped too.

“Zuko,” he mumbled, like somehow he was ashamed of how his name sounded.

“Zu-ko,” I repeated. I like how it rolled out of my tongue. I sat down on the icy ground. A few steps in front of us is the unforgiving waters, it cannot be tamed, it is cold as the first ice that has formed in the South Pole and as sharp as a razor’s edge. I’ve heard stories of sailors who drowned, because they did not respect the moon.

He sat down next to me.

“Why did you bring me here, I could kill you, you know that?”

“You could’ve done it a minute ago, or perhaps in the tent. You could’ve murdered the both of us in cold blood and left like the wind, but you didn’t,” I picked at the ice beneath me and picked up a tiny piece, and threw it to the water. It sank in the dark waters.

“But I didn’t,” he said, and he said it like it was only for him to hear.

“But you didn’t.”

Silence lapped over us like the waves. He had two of his swords in front of him, he stared at his reflection, it glinted in the sunlight.

“Your name is Sokka? Right?” He said, the way it rolled out of his tongue, it was full of care and detail.

  
  


He was allowed to stay, by my Gran Gran’s rules. We took him as our own, and stayed in our tent. He learned our ways, and how we fished and hunted in the vast ice. He learned how to cook, and as well as how to stitch our clothes. Zuko often watched as Gran Gran did practises that were passed down through generations. He would stand in the corner, and he stared like a curious child would.

Everyone in the village did not know him, but it did not matter. Some of the kids annoyed him, pestered him to play while he had that hideous scowl on his face, everyone laughed because of it. He kept quiet to himself, often found near the waters with his gaze on the horizon. It was like he tried to recall home, to bring the memories and turn them into reality.

One afternoon I walked to find him, I yelled for his name. He did not answer me. He did that often. But I saw him behind a wall of ice, I almost did not breathe. It was like I saw a god in front of me, because the way he brandished his sword came to him naturally like how his breaths did. His face, it was twisted with both concentration and a tinge of fury. I wonder where he pulled the fury from, perhaps from the sun.

I liked the way he practised.

He stepped backwards, and thrusted his sword. I could imagine how he fought, with his movements precise, but sometimes it was sloppy, a reminder that he wasn’t above the earth. In those human moments, his movement began to become forced and rigid, his scowl deepened during those times. And after those times, more and more of these human flaws crept up.

He was like a god, but oh so human at the same time. A merge between immortal and mortal. God and flesh. Brought together by the altar and blessed by destiny. When I stepped into view he suddenly stopped, I could hear his ragged breaths that filled the air between us.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you,” I quickly tried to pull words from thin air, to make up an excuse to see him, “Katara is cooking food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

I leaned against ice, “who trained you?”

“My _father_ ,” he said, his voice was calm but his face twisted at the word _father_.

I stepped further, I took my flimsy boomerang into my hands, I started to wonder how wood would fare against steel, “fight me.”

He laughed, “No.”

“You have no choice,” a sly smile came up to me, but my inside brimmed with possibilities, and fear as well, he could slice me and make me bleed out with ease. I’m a mere new-born against his power, but I did not care, I liked how he reacted to someone who protested against him, “it’s not a question.”

“It’s not a question,” he repeated my words.

“No, it’s not.”

“I don’t care if you say yes or not,” something in me thrummed, maybe it’s a foolish confidence, it started out as humour inside me but left my mouth like a challenge, “I will challenge you.”

He did not stir.

I entered his space, we’re ten steps apart. He only stood still. I took another, then another. I tested the waters, to see if he would do anything. He didn’t when I took another, it was thought he had already surrendered, like he was already dead, just a corpse that breathed. He did not look at me, I felt fury at this. _Look at me_ , I wanted to say.

He did not look at me. He only dropped his swords to the ground, his eyes were like deep pools of despair that shared the same waters of Katara’s. Something in me thrummed. This boy is someone I still did not know, before this it was like a challenge to see how he really is. Yet, I wanted to see him come alive under the sun, I wanted to see his face bloom with joy.

I could not speak those into words, so instead I crashed into him.

It sent both of us into the ground, with ice and snow that clung to our cheeks and clothes. He groaned and told me to get off, with his arms that tried to disconnect us. I only laughed and my cheeks began to hurt, we were a mess. 

“Let me go!” He said while he chuckled. I stopped, and looked at his eyes that drank in the sun, it looked like gold, dug up and taken from the ground, brought up like an ancient gift just for me to see. In those two seconds, I watched how his lips curled into laughter and his eyes crinkled at the corners. It was a moment of vulnerability, softness, like a warrior that shedded off his golden armour.

I think; I liked how he laughed. I think; I liked the way his face lit up like the sun. I think; I want to see him more. He pulled me off me and we laid there, breathless, full of joy. I looked at his face, he did too. Our faces, bright on joy, the tiny pieces of laughter left us.

“Did your father really train you?” I asked, I had my hand over my heartbeat. It echoed through my body, I felt it in my ears.

“My father can drown for all I care,” he said, with a smile on his face.

“I’ve never met anyone like you," I said.

“No?

“No, I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He soon warmed up to me like a cat would. I began to fill the air with my questions and words, some he answered with one word while others he answered with stories that went on and on. He talked of where he came from: _a distant land faraway, I can’t tell you, for I think you would wish to see me drown in the waters_ . I did not understand what he meant. He talked of his sister and friends: _Azula, my sister. She burns like the sun, it’ll be her downfall. Atleast, that’s what my uncle described her as. Ty lee was happy as a bee. And Mai…_

_What about Mai,_ I asked.

_She’s the type of person that would knock down walls with just a simple word, she’s quiet, but that’s because she’s watching you._

_Do you like her,_ I asked again.

_Yes, but I broke her heart when I was banished. Perhaps we were the right people, but met at the wrong time._

I watched his soft smile turn sad, I wanted to trace the line of his lips.

_Did you have a prophecy?_ He asked me. I noticed how closed off we are in the tent, in the middle of the night where we could whisper secrets to each other and the night would take it away from us.

_My father placed the tribe’s safety in my hands, is that prophecy?_ I responded, I think, I fell from that prophecy, that destiny. Katara and the others could protect the village much better than me, Zuko even managed to teach them some basic movements in battle. I picked them up too, but they were shaky and weak.

_I wished I had that type of prophecy, that destiny_ . _Mine is written in the stars._ He said. 

_Then we’ll rewrite them, with our own two hands_. I said. I watched his frown turn into the soft smile again, lit up by the lantern that sometimes flickered. In the tent, I forgot about everything. That there was the war that raged well beyond the waters, the tribe’s problems, and how at any minute huge iron boats could come and break the ice into two.

I forgot all of them, and in exchange I watched how Zuko put his two hands on his chin. Like his brain kept going a hundred times, and he thought and thought over and over again. 

He stood up, “then my destiny will be to finally bring a peace of mind.”

“How?”

“I cannot tell you how,” he said, “I’m sailing away, I’ve heard of this man, this teacher that has lived through hell and back. He will teach me and sharpen my edge.”

“You’re leaving?” I watched as he took his two swords with him, “now?”

“Yes,” he said like he would say _hello_ , “is that a problem?”

Something overcame me, because I stood up and gripped his wrist, “let me come with you.”

I did not think. I thought impulsively, like how Katara would say. I would leave behind the whole tribe to new lands I did not know. I would put the village in danger, it’s safety. In this tiny village, everyone kept each other alive. If I leave, would it all fall apart? It would all be my fault. Guilt would hang over me like the blade of a guillotine.

I looked at him, skin lit up by the lantern. 

“No,” he said, there it is, that soft smile, “not at all.”

I realised that I became the boy that Gran Gran told me about. I hope we don’t drown in the icy waters.

  
  
  
  
  


Zuko spoke of his name, _Jeong Jeong_. The name sounded ancient within the forest that we traversed, flush of green and full of life. Everything was new to me here, I did now know the land like the back of my hand. I’m a mere stranger in these woods, in the rivers where we drank and the giant rolling hills full of flowers that bloomed.

I took everything with curiosity and watched it all wide eyed. _Look at the flowers! Look at the twig, this one is shaped like a hand! Look at the flowers! Look at how the creek runs._ He would laugh at me, and I would laugh too. Sometimes I thought back home, and the way that ice felt so natural to me, not like the green grass underneath me.

Zuko would sit next to me, a blank face. This, this was his way of how he showed comfort. We stared at our reflection on the creek. Sunlight had no problem with the way that it cut through the clear water, each stone that sunk to the bottom had many stories to tell.

“You’re a good fighter,” I said randomly.

“Perhaps, but not good enough,” he said, his tone heavy.

I took one of the stones near me and dropped it into the water. It did not sink, instead it floated and got carried away by the current. I would never see it again, “I think you fight well. That’s all that matters.”

“Whatever you think?” He said.

“Yes,” I meant it as a joke, but he took it seriously by the way he smiled. We began to walk again, and ventured through the thickery of the forest. Days and nights seemed to blend together. We lived off sweet berries and fat fishes that we caught from the rivers, and we entertained ourselves with silly little jokes like children. 

Often I watched the way he ate. It was unguarded and sloppy, more of his golden armour came off and it showed moments that I did not get to see. How he laughed when he took a berry, he grinned when the juices spilled to his chin and he used the back of his hand to wipe it off. 

Often when he drank, he tilted his chin up when he cupped water from the river. I would watch how his throat would bob, the sun would cast shadows on his face, it seemed as though he was sculpted from light and dark. But the way the water dribbled down his chin messily was a reminder that he was still made of flesh and bones.

“What are you looking at?” Zuko wiped his mouth with the back of his mouth.

“You,” I said. I took my sack and placed it on the surface of the water, it sloshed and felt cold against my hand.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not that interesting,” he rose, I watched him stretch. He still wore those black clothes. 

“I’d like to argue.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, and stared at the sky, “do you know of the Sozin’s comet?”

“Yes,” I said, “it’s supposed to wipe out—

“—everyone, the firebenders pull the energy from the comet,” he mumbled, “but that’s the Avatar’s destiny.”

“What do you mean?’

“He came too late,” he mumbled, “but he might be in time to halt the advance of the fire nation.”

“Not enough to stop it completely?”

He nodded.

  
  
  
  


I finally saw who _Jeong Jeong_ was after two years, and our muscles seemed to grow and there were scruffs of hair on our jawline. He’s a man that has walked the earth a thousand times, paid his consequences by the scar on his face and his deepended scowl. When he looked at Zuko, his frown only deepened and more wrinkles came. This man held so much knowledge in him, wisdom as well. When he left Zuko to meditate around a circle of candles he would come to me. 

I was easy to find. There I sat, cross legged as I stared at the river. It was murky. I could not see how my face would twitch or shift. He emerged from the trees, the trunks thick as sticks. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, he sat beside me. He too, looked off into the distance. I suddenly became aware of how his face shifted when I looked at him, a part of me wanted to know how he got his scar, the many battles that he endured. I wanted him to spill his stories, like Gran Gran did.

Instead, I mumbled my name. _Sokka_.

“Sokka? You’re from the water tribe then,” he said, “you two share a bond, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

I looked at the lines on my palm, and wondered how many Jeong Jeong had.

“He shares a secret, and his past is clouded, just like yours,” he said, “but I hope that it doesn’t become the reason you lose what you’ve gained,” the way that he spoke, it almost like poetry, taken from the paper and spoked into air, “but that’s your choice, it is up to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll understand soon,” he cleared his throat, “do you think he’s a good person?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he said. We sat in silence.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


We slept in a tent that Jeong Jeong gave us, we were both enveloped in darkness and our lips were sealed. Normally we would talk. But tonight there was nothing. He was exhausted from his training, I watched his chest rose and fell. He stared at the ceiling. Usually his face was twisted with thoughts, but tonight, there was nothing. His face was blank.

“Do you think I’m a good person,” he asked on a whim.

I turned to face him, “yes, I think so.”

“You think so?” He turned to face me, two of his hands out like he wanted to reach out for me.

I nodded, “yes, why does it matter?”

“I don’t know,” I watched his lips tremble, he breathed as if he was on borrowed time. Our breaths, it filled the darkness between us. His hand shifted closer to me, I took it as a sign and held his. They held each other like long, lost bodies, found together at last. 

He leaned forward.

I did not know how to kiss, neither did he. It was clumsy, but our lips seemed to have ripened like apples in fall, flushed with colour and moved with softness. He smelled like the earth and rain with each breath that came, he swelled from my touch. He pressed against me, and our bodies cupped each other like perfectly fitted hands.

It felt like a miracle, with how I sometimes forget how to breathe properly. I found my fingers between his hair, it felt soft between my fingers, like it was made of fine velvet. There was thrum in me, blood in my ears that screamed of panic. I pulled away, and watched the outline of his body. The dip of his shoulder. His flushed lips. How his eyes gleamed like the sun.

It’s him, all parts of him.

“I—” he paused, hands over his chest, he looked breathless and so _human_ , “I’m sorry,” he spoke with fear, and drew it with a single breath.

“I’m not sorry,” I said, I meant it, “are you sorry?”

He paused, I wanted to reach out and put my thumb over his lips that chewed over the words that he wanted to speak. But I didn’t. Silence sank over us, I did not care how hot and sweaty my body felt. Something was lodged in my throat, but I could not speak it. _I will be at his side, and it’ll be like this for all eternity, for this is what he’ll ever give me and nothing more_.

He stirred, gave up on words and reached for my hands. He held me, his fingers were etched with unsureness, his hands shook. I held him tighter. Skin against skin.

“Sokka,” he breathed out, I thought I was better with words than he is. Perhaps I was wrong.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The next morning I woke tired and woozy, Zuko was long gone. He practised deep into the woods. _I need concentration,_ he spoke. I did not understand. I simply nodded. I found Jeong Jeong outside my tent.

“You’re not like him,” he said.

I nodded.

“But even if you can muster even a _fraction_ of who he is, you’ll make a fine warrior.”  
  


“You think so?”

He nodded.

I trained under him when Zuko went away, it was not everyday. But I watched how he described how a weapon should be an extension of your body, a thing that lived and breathed, something full of life. He taught me how to throw a spear, and how to fight with a sword. I was not like Zuko, who finally used his quiet fury and sharpened it to be like steel. Zuko did not shake anymore, he was still and calculated.

My movements weren’t grounded to the ground, they shook with inexperience and I groaned. He even taught me something that he learned, something knew. _This is from the Kyoshi warriors, do not underestimate them_ . It was called: _Chi blocking_. It was light as a feather, but struck like a spear from the darkness.

He even taught me how to heal wounds and cuts. I watched him point out ferns that could heal burns. Grass that could cure an infection. Bark that can be crushed up to be used to ease pain. I watched him hunt as well, with a spear held up high as it struck a boar with such strength. I took these skills in, and became a mere fraction of what he was. The way that I acted, it was dragged with human flaws.

And that, I thought, was fine. I will be made of blood and flesh, and whenever I touched Zuko he would come alive and be brought back to be human. He might not be a god, but the way he struck the ground with his feet said so otherwise. I was fine with my body next to him, that I could watch him turn into something else.

“Focus,” Jeong Jeong whispered, we stepped closer to the deer. I took a breath, let my body relax and my shoulders were steady. I watched the deer perk it’s ears up, so innocent, just another animal unaware. I channelled who Zuko was, someone who became him with the touch of a weapon.

I took a step back, and struck the deer with the spear. It hit the forest floor, a flock of birds flew away.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Come with me,” I whispered late into the night as I held my hand out. He took it and I led him out into the darkness. We shushed each other as we stepped further and further away from our tent and went deeper into the forest. I wanted to show him a place that I found, a field with nothing but the field of yellow grass amidst the thickery of the forest. It was almost as though the sun spilled into the grass itself.

We emerged, and I saw how his face lit up, blessed by the moon herself. It was like he became a mere child again, watched time turn back with his features and smile that curled. I was not the one who led, he took over and dragged me through the field. I clung to him, and I imagined how he was back at his distant land. He would’ve crouched near the pond, or perhaps he ran with his arms out.

“I want to show you something,” he led me to a soft patch in the middle where the grass was flattened. He sat down, I sat down too, “but I fear you would hate me.”

“I think; I could never bring myself to hate you.” I said.

This did not help, I watched the shadows on his face shift. The moon didn’t hide behind clouds, instead she was flush and full for everyone to see. His hand, the way he reached out and opened his palms like a broken clam scared me. I took my hand and placed it underneath his hand. 

Suddenly a small pillar of flame swirled in his hand that was over mine. I did not turn away, I did not breathe. I was hypnotised, with the grass and my skin touched by orange hues. It wasn’t like the fire that raged from firebenders, fat on greed as it sunk its teeth into more land. Instead it was like life, it brimmed with warmth. I wanted to touch it.

“I’m a firebender,” he said, and he extinguished it.

I did not speak.

“You hate me, you want to slaughter me in cold blood, don’t you?”

I did not speak. I thought back to the stories that I heard, the ships and it’s horn that sounded like death. The fire that killed my own mother, and how fire was something that took and took and took. Firebenders were people who saw life like pawns, a piece in their chess to gain more fruit wine in their golden goblets.

I could not hate him. I don’t know why.

“I can’t bring myself to hate you,” I spoke, I reached out and cupped his cheek, “you will write your own destiny. Someone who defied generations and turned back the tide of wars.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

He touched my hand on his cheek, I could still feel the warmth.

“Name one firebender who was happy,” he said in a whin.

  
I did not know what that meant, firebenders were happy with how they took and grew fat like kings. I considered—Firelord Sozin who was blinded with greed, isn’t that happiness? Firelord Ozai took upon his father’s throne and led the fire nation. It confused me.

“Aren’t all firebenders happy?”

He shook his head, “they blind themselves with greed and distract themselves with money, they confuse it with happiness,” he looked back down to his own palm, almost as though his palm was full of shame.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, I loved when he was like this, like a child full of pride. He dug his head into the crook of my shoulder. We didn’t move a second, we didn’t dare to break this sacred silence that we kept.

“Tell me.”

“I’m going to be the first,” he kissed my neck.

“You are?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, and it filled the midnight air. I laughed too, “I feel like I could light the whole world on fire.”

We started to speak of random things. Of tales from his childhood, and why he was banished. _I was supposed to kill the Avatar,_ he said with laughter. And I spoke of stories from Gran Gran, and of Katara too. He laughed at that, and I could feel how he would relax against me. We were happy, as I felt his lips curl into a smile against my skin. I thought to myself: _maybe, you can give me more than these silent moments we give each other in our secrecy of spaces._

  
  
  
  
  
  


After three years of kisses in the tent and laughter in the waterfall we left. Zuko has honed his craft and walked like gods among men. He caught new skills, and sometimes I watched him harness the power from the sun and drew them into steady flames. He did not like to firebend, he said that he didn’t need it, that he could defeat anyone with just steel. _I’m not like my father_ , he said one night.

He waited for me at the bank. I watched him draw the sails, he waited for me. I took my bag, I made it myself. It held all of his weapons, steel spears tempered with fire, a bow void of imperfection, made of varnished wood. He even had armour in here, not the heavy type that glistened in the sunlight. It was light, made of leather. He would wear it under his black clothes.

“You know of his nature, don’t you?” 

I turned around, Jeong Jeong grew older and more frail over the years, he practically raised us by himself.

“That he is a firebender?” I said.

He only laughed, he drew a burst of flame in his hands, skin seeped with warmth, “that boy, he is a god among men. Only the Avatar could outpower his strength if he stopped being so stubborn and pulled from the suns,” he extinguished the fire in his hands.

“He is a good warrior,” I said, he nodded.

“He is a killer, who wrote his own prophecy and shackled himself. He is a fool, to promise himself to kill his own father.”

“He’s not like that,” I said. But his eyes held me like a pillar of flame, he trapped me, and did not dare to speak.

“You’re his _companion_ ,” he put so much emphasis on the word _companion_ , did he know of our relationship? “So I’ll give you some advice, leave him.”

_I’m the only one who can make him human_ , I thought, but not even the stubbornness inside me was enough to break out of the flame. 

“You will watch his skin be bathed in blood, and you will see how unhumane he is.”

_He is human, made of skin. He is not just a god, he is both holy and flesh_. I said it with my eyes, he only frowned at me.

“You two are like water against scorched rocks,” he said, “don’t come back to me when you burst into nothing but steam.

“You’re wrong,” I finally said, my eyes stung with childish tears. I tried to imagine Zuko, became a fraction of who he is. My nails dug into my palms, and blood seemed to grow with heat, “watch me by his side, and after this war is over we will live deep in the woods and waste our lives away with looms.”

“He is prophesied to die, he wrote it in the stars himself,” the words, it cut through me like a sword against soft clay. I was no match for him, I wanted to hurt him. But I didn’t. I held my tongue as I turned around and fled from him. When I saw Zuko I wrapped my hands around him, we fit so well.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

I did not answer. I realised that was the last one that Jeong Jeong ever saw of us, he died a few months later after he saw us. Zuko’s father hunted him down, but he did not mutter a single of where we went. I imagined how he died. Painful. Slow. Full of agony. Is this what Zuko is? Someone who left behind a wake of pain behind him. No. He is not like that. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


We sat near the campfire, the air burned while the embers crackled.

“What has your father ever done to you?” I said it as a joke. I waited for his frown to deepen. But it didn’t, what came though is his maddening smile that pierced through the darkness.

  
  



	2. and beautiful would come with him.

We found a village hidden in the woods, made of benders and non-benders who fight against the fire nation. We settled normally against them, while Zuko made a name for himself. He’s known as the blue spirit, by the way he wore the mask and dressed all robes black above his leather tunic. Everyone would rise in joy whenever they fought next to him. _It was like I watched an art form. Zuko, the non-bender with the strength of a thousand men. Zuko, the best warrior in our army, would be key to our victory._

But they did not know his nature, if they did, he would be torn apart like crows on a corpse. 

People spoke of my sister, the avatar, and an earthbender prodigy that could bend metal to her will. His name was Aang. Her name was Toph. People often described them my sister and Aang as perfect images as each other, like _soulmates_ . _Just like us_ , Zuko said one day in our tent. I nudged him in the shoulder as I smiled. I first met them after their patrols, I looked at Katara, expected a giant slap on the face. 

I deserved it. She did not slap me, instead I felt her body against mine and cried into my shoulder. _You’re so stupid, how you could leave me like that? All for that stupid boy? How could you Sokka?_ Her words were void of malice, I wrapped my arms around her, perhaps that hug alone made up for that lost time.

That night, we settled into our tent. It was full of a make-shift bed and a mirror, all of his clothes and masks were stored in a wooden chest. I would often hear it creak early in the morning, a reminder that he was going to leave me cold when the sun rose higher.

But it is not morning, it is night. We settled on the bed, I saw how his black, shiny hair came up to his shoulders. It draped over him, I reached out to tuck his hair behind his ear. Such an intimate moment for the both of us, the way that we touched in the darkness was so delicate, like how creators made the earth that we slept on.

I counted how his breaths came. One. Two, “when this is over, we should live deep in the woods.”

He laughed and took it as a joke, I wished he didn’t, “perhaps we should, we’ll get drunk on crushed grapes and lay on the bed all day.”

But I knew that this was a fantasy that I spun in thin air, I brang myself closer to him. I touched his hands, it was smooth and soft, despite him being one of the best warriors.. Perhaps, if I hoped enough, that I could take the pen he wrote his destiny and erase it. That, with anyone, I hoped I could turn back the clock and let ourselves live.

But a part of me knew this fact: he will live and die by the blade. When he dies, all things soft and beautiful would come with him.

I watched his muscles shift, how his biceps seemed to be sculpted in the low light. He came alive in front of me. Eyes full of flames that flickered. His hair. Face soft. The tendons of his neck, especially the one nearest to his shoulder. I’ve seen it, I’ve kissed it so many times, memorized it, I could find it with no trouble. If I could, I would find him if my sight had been taken away, just through the way he shivered under my light touch. If he wanted to, he would steal the words of poets and etch it to the stars, and each time I looked up I’ll know it was for me. 

I let him put his weight into me. As he drifted off to sleep, I kissed his knuckles, his bruises, his scar, his cheek. I made him feel human again, not like some immortal god that shook the ground with each step. He is human in the tent, but outside he was like gold against stone.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The leader is Jet, a man who always chewed on a piece of wheat and fought with two swords just like Zuko. He moved differently, erratic and fast, like the currents in the deep waters. Zuko always complained about him. I would always squeeze and massage his shoulders while he talked about him.

But it did not matter. He asked me to come with him to battle, took pity to see how miserable I looked with the healers and blacksmiths (even though I found it entertaining). It was an ambush mission at one of the supply lines of the fire nation, we crouched low on the bushes. I turned my head to face Zuko. He looked at me too, and I saw how his face lit up before he put on his mask.

He was in his element.

The earth trembled beneath me as the earthbenders worked the ground. We emerged from the bush with high morale and swords raised. The fire nation soldiers rose a giant hurricane made from flames to protect themselves, hot as the sun's surface. Katara was there with us, her lips turned sly as she drained the grass and trees from their water. She formed the water into the shape of the moon, and sliced the hurricane in half. The flames dissipated.

And chaos ensued.

I made sure to stay near Zuko as I brandished a sword, polished and made from stars themselves. I remembered what my training told me to do, to root myself deep into the ground and breath deeply. Something in me thrummed as I watched Zuko fought, he came alive in the battlefield as he moved as water, but the way he thrusted was full of heat. I tried to mimic what he was, just a fraction of him.

Soon I found myself against a fire nation solider. They pulled from the sun and sent a barrage of fire at me, I dodged and gritted my teeth. Faster. I needed to move faster. More strength. More power. More speed. I could hear my blood that echoed inside my ears as I deflected another flame. I stared at their position, and how easily flimsy it could be broken.

Another swerve, another side-step I moved into their space and thrusted my sword deep into their chest. They yelled, spasmed like a dead animal for a second. I could see how they tried to fight back, with both of their hands on the blade, their grip tightened with each moment. Blood dribbled down their hands, their mouth.

Then their eyes looked lifeless. Something in me came alive, maybe it was adrenaline, or a sense of victory. I wonder how dad would look at me, as he sailed the seas to find more weaknesses and to come hear the news. _Your son is a great warrior, you should be proud of him._

_Is this what you felt like in the battlefield, Zuko?_ I mumble to myself. I took my sword back, and their body collapsed to the ground. Blood pooled underneath them. It was a gritty and grotesque sight, but I could not look away. This, this is Zuko’s strength, just a fraction of it. I wondered how he dealt with this power that surged underneath him, how did he handle it?

The ambush was successful, no casualties. But I did not care about that, all I cared about was Zuko. I saw him near the cart, I watched faraway like an owl would. He took off his mask, his hair shone in the sunlight like obsidian. His face twisted with concentration and thoughts. If you didn’t look properly, you would see nothing but a statue. But look at the sweat on his forehead, his Cupid’s bow, the way his chest expanded and retraced with his breath. A reminder that he was human. Not god. Not a statue.

Human. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


We sat around the campfire that night, the embers crackled and burned bright in the middle. Zuko threw more logs into the pit as he laughed with his mouth open. I liked the way he was like this, where I could be by his side right now, just next to each other while I watched him come undone. It was like a bulb that unravelled, and came with a sweet smell of earth and tinge of fresh fire.

We celebrated our tiny victory in the span of the giant war, as we were just cogs in the machine. Katara stood next to Aang, who whispered secrets into his ear that brought laughter to him. Toph sat quietly while she ate her bowl of soup, there was a soft smile that I noticed before she hid it with a scowl. 

And next to me Zuko’s laughter that bubbled like foam on the stream settled down. What replaced it was his quiet smile as he stared at the fire. I watched the flames dance around him, it shifted the shadows on his face. I liked this part of him too. How he could be quiet? How I could not hear the thoughts in his head?

“What are you thinking about?” I whispered, I shifted next to him and placed my hand between us. We could not love each other in public, but perhaps, this could be enough. 

“I’m not thinking.”

“I can see it in your face,” I turned to look at his parted lips, teeth white as porcelain. It turned into a soft chuckle. I almost did not breathe, by the way how it sounded was like a lyre in the silent night.

“You can?” He said, he looked at my feet.

“Yes, tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“I’m thinking about _our_ future,” the way he said it, he sounded so sure. He brandished his knife made from metal found deep underground, it shone like a moonlight against the campfire. This was not enough to show to them that we loved each other, that we laid next to each other and let our skin touch in the middle of the night. But it is like we have opened the crack of the door, and let light seep in just a little bit.

And if someone looked close enough, they could see how we looked at each other with that spark in our eyes.

  
  
  
  
  


I did not go to war anymore, instead I stayed behind to help as more and more injuries rose. I was busy and content inside the tent, as I worked beside healers with great skill to treat wounds so big that I found myself a little queasy in those times. With crushed herbs and bandages I remembered what Jeong Jeong taught me: how to treat wounds, how to disinfect, and how to amputate even when needed.

Soon I found myself busy, I liked this system that I had. When I grew sick of stale air and the smell of medicine inside the tent, I would sometimes go into battle with Zuko. I was not like him, but my calves were built, biceps grown with mass and my strength has grown since I was a child. 

I’m not a child anymore, someone could call me a warrior and they would believe me. 

I often found myself next to him when the times we fought together, watched him brandish a spear, the diamond shaped blade would glint every time before it left his hands. He struck with the strength of a bull, but had the accuracy of an archer. I was in awe, to see him like this in battles. He was not like Aang, who bent the elements to his will. 

He did not break the earth and split it into two. He did not command the water to cut his foes. He did not pull from the sun to burn flesh with fire. He did not summon the winds to spiral a hurricane. Instead he breathed with exhaustion each time he summoned his own strength. He was true power in a mortal form, with each time his body shifted when he deflected a barrage of fire with his spear. Or how he put his right foot back when he struck the air with his spear. He worked for his power and made it seem effortless, like it was a form of art.

If someone asked me to draw him while he fought with my eyes closed, I would do it ten thousand times and oh so more. _Oh lover,_ I wanted to say when he took off his mask, _you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, that it would break me in half and into quarters to see you dead._

We walked back to the village, I’ve heard stories of how it used to reside up in the tree-tops. But our numbers grew large, so we resorted back to the ground. He walked beside me, with the way our bodies did not quite touch, it was a sign that he wanted me alone in the tent. 

“Zuko!” A voice broke through the silence, Jet pushed through the crowd and he stood there with a straw between his teeth. His eyes bored through the both of us. Zuko’s scowl deepend, it was like fire against fire, “you have disobeyed my orders and decided to go on a rampage, and I told you to save our resources.”

I did not reach out to stop Zuko as he stepped forward, because I feared that our secrets would spill out into public eyes. Though, when I look back, I wish I did.

“A kill is a kill,” Zuko said. Everyone grew quiet and still. Inferno against inferno, now. 

“They could’ve died,” Jet frown deepened, “ _I’m_ the leader, and decide our plans, not you.”

Zuko stepped into his space, to challenge him, to threaten with just his stare alone, “you might be the leader, but I’m one of the best warriors you have and my power triumphs even benders that stand here. My presence grants fear to our enemies and morale to our allies. The avatar doesn’t have ten bodies, he cannot split himself to help us,” the way he spoke, he demanded authority and respect that even rose above Jet.

Jet took up the challenge, “keep speaking, and you’ll never step a foot into battle ever again.”

Zuko flashed his smile, “glady.”

I followed him back to our tent.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was late into the night, he lit the lantern with his fingers. It was a trick that he could only perform in privacy. He shook off his black clothes and threw on red robes. Light flickered, he stared at himself in the mirror while I laid in our bed, our blankets a mess. In the low light, his shoulder blades shifted like wings, his back greased with the sweat he had from battle. He took down his hair, it sat on his shoulders so well.

He climbed into the bed, tired and weary from the day. I cupped him like he needed to, my hands roamed his back, traced the dip of his muscles. I embraced him even more, felt his hair on my chin. I thought about how he would grow old, hair turned grey, with thin and weary limbs and wrinkles in his hair. And then it struck me: he won’t grow old with me.

“What was that stunt you pulled there, hon?” I spoke, he dug himself deeper into my chest, like he never wanted to come alive again.

“You aren’t gonna answer?” I said again, I made sure he could hear the smile in my voice. I looked at our hands, how it held each other. We were complete opposites, how my skin was washed sepia, calloused and rough from tools and knives, sometimes I spilled liquid against it from how fast I went, people described me as loose canon. But his skin, it was the complete opposite, the colour of fawn, smooth like a new-born’s, it seemed to glisten in the dark.

I did not know how, he drew blood from the battlefield, yet his body was anew each time.

“They would fall apart without me, Aang is not around often to make up for the lack of presence,” he said to my skin, I shivered under his hot breath, “you will see.”

I trusted him, so I nodded.

“Are you cold?” He asked.

“Yes.”

  
He embraced me like I did. The air around us warmed. It felt like home, under the blankets and our limbs tangled. But something brimmed on the horizon, and I feared for everyone here. He was right, without his presence, the army would collapse without his morale and his strength.

We were young then, and things that we wanted to say were difficult to speak into words. Now we’ve grown old, that fear that gripped our throat never left.

  
  
  
  
  
  


I heard Jet talk to Katara as I made my way to the bigger tent.

“It is the most painful feeling, to see your other half die right before your time, is it not?”

I almost dropped my box full of medicine. I crawled back up to the bed where me and Zuko spent the whole day tangled in each other’s presence. I thought about how the fire nation was close to our tail, it’s not a matter of _how_ they’ll find us, it’s a matter of _when_ they’ll find us. I thought back to what Jet said.

Guilt burned inside me.

  
  
  
  
  
  


We filled our time that we spent bored outside, well into the woods where a waterfall ran. We went just as the sun was about to set, the water would look like it spilled from the sun. I would pull him into the water, he would shriek and laugh as we sank into the water with our mouths curled in a smile. Our joy was sharp as a blade, and bright as the sun. 

When we emerged, he mimicked the waterbenders as he splashed water at my face. We became like children again. Drunk on each other’s silly laughter as he heated up the air around us, watched steam rise from the water. It warmed like a kettle of water above a controlled flame.

He came loose in those moments, he let his mask go and became who he was: someone who loves an infinite amount. I remembered the stories that he told late into the night, about his father, and the people who wronged him. I wanted to fight them myself, bring them to their knees.

How could anyone hurt him? His heart isn’t made for this world full of barbed wires and sharp teeth shaped like flames. Who could hurt him? This man, that held such beauty as he twisted his soles of his pink feet to skip rocks. This man, who sometimes dueled with me for fun, went down to my level to make it an even fight, just for me. No one could be ashamed to lose to such beauty of the way he breathed, full of life and light, his father would grow envious and breathe his precious air to feel young again.

He sighed, and wiped away the sweat that formed on his forehead like a child.

“When we die, we should mingle our ashes together and ask them to bury us together.”

He looked at me, “they will _know_ of us,” the way that he said that word, he spoke it with a tinge of fear.

“That’s how they’ll know,” I rose, and held his hand to mine.

“That’s how they’ll know,” he repeated what I said, he didn’t seem to tremble. The crickets chirped around us while I stared at him, my thumb brushed against his scar. It fitted him, like cracked pottery, held together by gold and promises that we ushered in the dark.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They found us. They came. The fire nation finally found us and everything around me burst into flames. I dropped the figs that I collected, I picked out the ones that had just ripened, it was supposed to be a gift for Zuko. Ice walls erected from the ground, the earth shook, the air burned and the wind picked up. I could not compete with their strength. When I ran towards the tent, I saw a clash of steel. Jet.

_Your companion’s pride and selfishness was the downfall of us,_ he said with his eyes, _look at how we faltered because of it_.

  
The tears pricked my eyes like spears, I threw the tent door open and it was as though it was just us. He sat on the bed, a small flame erupted from his palm that painted everything around it with warmth. Next to him, laid his masks and clothes, as well as his leather armour.

I knelt in front of me, “did you see what’s out there?” My hands shook as I searched for his other hand, the flame still kept alive. 

“Yes,” he stared at the fire, “as soon as Jet licks my boots and kneels then I will—”

“—They are dying!” Tears fell, and I saw him unfocused, like I was already underwater, the details of his eyes and face blurry, “don’t let them die because of Jet. Shouldn’t you worry about revenge? About your father? Jet does not connect with this.”

He shook his head.

I pressed on, “they are people! They’re alive!” I cried out for people who I saw, the healers who smiled at me as I slipped on liquid everyday, a mere flash of humour in their day. They stared in awe as they watched me work a needle through skin. They all looked up to me as something foreign, with skills I’ve perfected from Jeong Jeong.

  
They are all gonna die by my hands. Aang. Toph. _My sister_. My blood will be in my hands, as I am just a mere bystander.

“Zuko—”

“—Sokka,” he said, his voice was sharp, I saw the flames in his eyes as they bore down on me, “I will not go out there. Do not ask me again,” people would tremble at his voice, but I did not. I knew him, through the day he spoke. I knew his body, the way he moved when he swam or how he fought. I am a slingshot, and he is a giant titan that could fall to his knees through my simple words.

And this power that I hold, that I am the only thing that made him human, is _terrifying_.

“Do it for me instead,” I said, “save them for me.”

He lit the lantern by our side, and extinguished the fire in his. He cupped my cheek, I still felt the warmth that ebbed through his palm, “anything other than that, _please_ don’t make me,” he pleaded, I saw how his eyes struggled. My thumb wiped away his tears like wind against sand.

“ _Baby_ ,” I spoke this word often, and he would melt into it like water against scorched rocks. I realised then, that we were both each other’s weaknesses, and our greatest strength. He let out a shaky breath, he brushed our lips together, but I did not feel anything. Our tears mixed together like our ashes would.

“Then I’ll dress in your armour and your mask, use your blade like you would. I knew how to fight—”

“—but you don’t fight like me,” he spoke like a man, not like a god. I seized him closer and closed my eyes.

“I will become a fraction of you, they will run away from fear.”

We suffocated in our silence that we made ourselves, he kissed me, this type I felt something: the softness of his lips, it tasted of apples and smelled of snuffed out fire. I kissed him again, let him taste sweet figs, and the smell of leaves and medicine.

“Come back to me,” he whispered it like a secret, a promise. I did not know if I could keep it. Something in me buzzed, I did it. I saved them, found a way through the corridors of his past and guilt covered in pride and skill.

I could not bear to see him broken, I did not close my eyes, but instead I said: “I will,” I said like I would say a greeting, or a goodbye, or anything casual. We rose, his touch lingered against my skin while he helped me put on his leather armour. It was flexible, wrapped around my dark skin. He spoke of things. Told me to not be too greedy. Don’t run after them. We are not in the right time to gain back territory.

His voice was quick like arrows in the air, I could not catch them while my impatient heart echoed inside my ears. This man, he kissed me like I was already dead, that my spirit was already gone. 

That I was already a corpse.

He helped me put on his black clothes, tightened the straps around the waist. Then, the last piece. The mask that resembled the blue spirit. He placed it over my face, and I stared at the mirror. I was like him, mirrored who I was. Only my eyes belonged to me, not his golden ones. It was mine, blue eyes that shone like the vast oceans I grew up around.

“Don’t die,” he said, he took his two swords and placed them on my back. 

“I won’t,” I said with a wink, a flash of humour he was supposed to catch. He only frowned, and watched me get enveloped by the light as I stepped outside.

  
  
  
  
  


I felt like a god among men, this power surged like tides that battered against cliff sides. Benders and non-benders turned to face me, it was like I breathed air back into the space. They shouted his name, _Zuko! It is him!_ Jet did not say anything, he saw through my disguise. But it did not matter, I knew how to fight. I would become like him in battle. I had the support from the benders, earth to block, water to heal and air to lift.

Around me it was bodies and elements that clashed. Perhaps it was the panic that focused me or the way that I unsheathed the swords because my movement did not hesitate nor was it shaky, it was matured and strong, brimmed with strength. I slashed the barrage of fire in front of me and jumped, the sun behind me outlined me like Zuko.

I pierced through the fire nation’s soldier armour with ease. They struggled, blood seeped from their mouth as they went limp. _Dead_ , I thought, as I took back the two swords. Everyone around me seemed to rally, they fed on my energy. Benders harnessed more elements, bigger ice walls, sharper stone shards, hotter fires and stronger winds. Aang soon came, and we soon turned around the tides of the battle.

I surged with pride and energy, I pressed further, casted out Zuko’s advice to not go on. We trudged deep into the woods, with parts of it already burned to a crisp. I became relentless, after every blow and every thrust that tore flesh and spilled blood against grass and trunks of trees. I did not feel the poison in my muscles, or the copper taste in my mouth. 

I was focused.

I went deeper, I sheathed the swords and replaced it with a spear from the ground. Made from the fire nation lands, forged from fire taken from the sun, blade made from titanium. The edge was sharp, and it fitted so well against my fingers. It’s ironic, isn’t?

But I was too caught up to see beauty like this, it was my downfall, blinded by pride and adrenaline as flame engulfed my chest and sent me backwards. I landed against a tree, my insides burned with heat. I did not bleed, but when I looked at the ground I saw my mask gone. My identity revealed out to the world, that I was a mimicker of the real thing.

“You’re not my banished son,” a voice spoke.

It’s Zuko’s father, firelord Ozai.

I coughed out blood, strength slowly seeped from me as I reached out for my spear that was a few paces from me. He kicked it away from me and rolled down the hill, I felt like a mere mouse against the strength. His fire, it is different, uncontrolled and unbalanced, unshackled and wild.

It was the opposite of Zuko’s. 

“You don’t have the scar I gave him,” he spoke. His shadow loomed over me like an execution. I was frozen with fear, so aware of how flimsy my bones and flesh are. He held out his hand, turned it into a fist and formed a knife made of fire. My eyes looked around, hurriedly, for anyone. But they were too busy somewhere else. 

I raised my hand to stop him, a useless attempt. _Please_ , I said with my eyes, _don’t kill me, he will set the entire world on fire just to gain peace of mind. He will go mad with revenge, he will kill you first, then move onto the next._

But he did not bother to look into my eyes. Instead he entered my space. I could not scream, I felt white hot pain, edge sharp. Spools of red ribbons spilled as he split my neck open, it coated my clothes and splattered against my mask. The pain overwhelmed me, but it was not the worst feeling.

It was what came after it.

And it came from how I left the earth before him, I have cursed him with my death alone and left him to suffer.

_Zu-ko_ , I whispered.

My spirit left my corpse behind.

  
  
  
  
  


They did not tell Zuko what had happened. He emerged from the tent and ran into the forest. His scream, it filled the whole forest and terrified wildlife. He carried my body all the way back to his tent, my head sagged. Everyone looked at him, the man that they knew that held strength looked broken, in distraught. 

He took me back to his tent, tucked me into the blanket like I was still alive, that I breathed and ate just like him. _Baby,_ I wanted to say, _sweetheart_ , but I was dead, and I could not utter these words. Under the blankets, he cradled me and spoke only my name like a prayer, the air around us became blessed. 

This is who I am now, my spirit clung to my body and did not want to leave.

Jet came, he didn’t hold anger like Zuko. Instead, her anger was quite like how an arrow would fly through the night.

“He’s dead,” he said in a flat tone. I couldn’t tell whether or not he hated him or me, maybe it was spark of jealousy that he saw between us.

“My father will be dead,” he said, he showed his teeth like a hurt lion would, “tomorrow.”

“You’ll need armour—”

“—I don’t need any _fucking_ armour.”

He stepped forward, “he did it to himself.”

“Do not touch him nor me!” He scowled, he gritted his teeth, “if I _ever_ see you enter this tent, I will burn you alive in the fire pit.

He left the two of us. He cradled me harder, as though that if his grip on me tightened, my spirit and body would fully come into one and I’ll breathe and come alive just like him. It did not work, his painful gasps came with tears that burned hot like flames, it fell on my cheek. He spoke my name so many times that it started to become unfamiliar to me.

Sokka.

SokkaSokkaSokkaSokkaSokka—

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He left to go get his father late at night, he did not bother to wear his mask, his black clothes nor his armour. It was like he was vulnerable, and already accepted death into his arms. I tried to muster my words. _No! Don’t go down this path of madness,_ I tried to scream, but I only made a gust of wind.

He found him near a stream of water. His father looked calm, as he sat and stared at the milky reflection of the moon. I could feel the way the air around him burned with anger, he went mad with my death. I wished to hug him behind, to press our bodies together and to just come back down to our tent. _No, go back to our tent_. Nothing. Just more wind.

His father looked at him with surprise. Old age crippled him, while Zuko breathed young. He formed a large wall of flame that flickered, which reached the tree-tops, green leaves started to catch flames. Ozai broke apart the wall with his arms, the whole flame extinguished. But this was a careful trap that Zuko set out, because that window of vulnerability allowed Zuko to send a barrage of fire.

Ozai struggled, he almost got hit while he ducked to get back his composure. He was close to the edge, one more error could be enough. Their flames engulfed the forest in it’s warmth and light, but more of Ozai’s erratic fire spread to the forest. This was his downfall, his weakness. He wasn’t precise with his power, didn’t hone it like a silver needle. But I could see Zuko who started to fall apart, with his rigid breath and scowled lips.

I tried to speak again. But I only brought more wind that spread the flames. 

“How dare you sneak up on your father! You’re a coward!” He yelled, but it was all bark and no bite.

“Then you should easily defeat me then,” he took power from me, but it seemed to overflow, on how bright and how his flame got. His father stopped, took his two hands and pointed it to the sky. His body lit up with sparks of lighting, it grew. 

An arc of lightning came straight for Zuko.

And he took it with ease, pushed him back a couple of steps as he groaned, his body surrounded him with arcs of lightning. He re-directed it and struck it straight to his father’s chest. The silence should’ve came, but what draped over us was the flames that crackled and his ragged breaths.

He walked over him, Ozai’s mouth dribbled with blood, “I thought you gained knowledge from your ratchet uncle.”

“I wish I did.”

“Then have mercy on me.”

Zuko formed a knife out of fire, he knelt down, eyes full of rage, “mercy sounds foreign in your vocabulary. Perhaps I should teach you.”

“It is my first time,” he smiled, Zuko only made a sound like he choked.

“There’s no mercy between us. I will drag your body and etch your name into history all bloody.”

The tip of his knife dug into his neck, the place where he killed me. But he was drunk in fury, the knife lost its shape and it soon turned into a living thing that engulfed his father’s body. It almost became nothing but bone and ash if Aang wasn’t there to extinguish it.

Aang looked at him like he was someone else.

He scowled.

And all I could was watch as my death rippled and unravelled in front of me. I was helpless.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Katara came into the tent with water and a towel, she wiped away the dirt and grim from my corpse. Her hands were gentle, cleaned me like she did when we were younger, and not a corpse that stank the tent. Zuko came back after he paraded his father’s corpse around. 

“Get away from him,” he said.

“He’s my brother,” she spoke, her voice cut through the air, “he deserved to be taken properly.”

“Get out!” He yelled like a hurt predator, he showed his teeth, “get out!”

“Do you really think you’re the only one who cared about him?” She rose, the water from the pail began to slosh, but the air began to warm up, “you cared nothing about except your stupid father, and how you killed him over and over again. You killed my brother! He was worth ten times more than you!”

“I loved him!” He yelled, there it is, the secret is out, “I told him not to press on further.”

“If you loved him then you would’ve gone out yourself!”

He cracked under pressure, and soon fire rose from his palm and his rage took over the room, “leave us!” He boomed, but his voice was full of agony, pain and guilt. All the secrets were out, that he could bend fire, that he had the same blood as the enemy. Katara starred in fear, but I knew she would not utter to another soul.

She was good at secrets.

“I loved that man like the way you loved Aang,” he said, the fire in his palm fizzled.

“I wish your father burned you into nothing but ashes,” she took her pail of bucket and towel.

“Do you not think I hoped for the same?” I whispered, he wanted to turn inwards, to turn into nothing but a child and nothing more. I let my hands wrap around his waist, to give that comfort of touch. But all I left behind is a cold touch. I watched my sister leave. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They set up a pyre that burned bright, smoke fizzled into the thin air. Jet was there, but he did not speak. He took my corpse and held it steadily, full of hesitation, that he wanted more of what was left of me: bones and kisses that haunted my skin. His tears fell onto my skin, he took my calloused hands next to his soft hands before he took me to the fire.

I felt the flames surround me like a warm hug, it whispered at me to come to the spirit world. I shivered at the cold wind that blew past, and even though I did not have a body I cried when I watched Zuko’s face, broken and bloodshot from late nights. I held onto the thinnest thread of life I could, it was him, at the end of it was Zuko.

Him, it’s _always_ been him.

I could not leave without my lover, not yet. I would wait for him at the very end of the world. 

“When I am dead, I charge you to mingle our ashes together,” he spoke as he collected my ashes, even though it was a woman’s job.

  
  
  
  
  


Zuko stopped after he killed his father, he grew slow and sluggish with his moves. He did not even bother to wear his own mask or armour. He let everyone know who he was, a descendant from the firelord Ozai, a bender who didn’t need to pull from the sun and only needed blades.

Other people took over his father’s place. A leader named Zhao, who often laughed and cackled, his fire was erratic and held no control. This was his consequence, for that Zuko would use it to his advantage the minute Zhao grew tired. He killed him swiftly with his blade, and left his corpse to rot.

There was Azula, his older sister who took the throne. She fought with flames as blue as the deep waters, but did not have control like the oceans and the moons. Instead, her bending grew manic, more erratic than Zhao’s. She relied on strength alone. This was her downfall, as Zuko could’ve killed her if Aang didn’t step in.

Each day that passed his eyes grew more dead and bleary, his weaknesses started to show themselves. In the deep woods, a fire nation soldier pulled the strings of a bow, the arrowhead glinted in the darkness. It was like he was already dead, because he heard the hum of the arrow before it even came.

Yet, he did not move.

He let the arrow sink between his shoulder blades and strike straight to his heart. He did not scream, even though the pain grew hot like flames. Instead, he smile before he struck the ground

  
  
  
  
  


Aang took Zuko’s place, it was best. Jet continued to lead, and had the goal in mind to wipe out the fire nation did not flatter. We were replaceable, just mere men in another war. Our names would get lost in the pages of history, winners did not care for love such as our kind. I found that I did not care about the war, or anyone. All I cared about is our tombstones, to see our ashes. Yet, as the sun sank behind the mountains and dipped the grass of the mountain that we rested upon, I did not feel anything.

I looked at my tombstones, hastily made. _Sokka_ , it read. And beside it, _Zuko_. I did not feel his ashes next to me when I wrapped myself around our tombstones. I could feel his warmth, or his smile. My lover, I could not find him. He is gone. Somewhere deep in the spirit world where I could not venture.

I would stay here, time would go on but I would be rooted to this spot. Moons would pass, they would leave and seasons would change, but I will be shackled and stuck here for the rest of my life. I watched the village that we made grow empty as they left to go to one final push towards the fire nation, then this war would finally end.

I longed for the chill that would come, but I could not feel the wind against me. I wept, screamed until my lungs felt hoarse. But I did not feel anything. I wanted to fight the gods, the cosmos that kept my away from him. _Come,_ I wailed to the wind, _show yourself._ I felt new footsteps against the ground, it was his uncle, a man who’s frail and wrinkled. _General Iroh_. I’ve heard stories of him, the son that he lost, and now, Zuko too.

“They deserved for their ashes to be mingled together, it is the least that we could do, Katara.”

_Katara_ , she was here.

“He does not, he has doomed my brother—”

“—I think, your brother would say so otherwise,” they walked closer to us, their skin touched by the sun, “he loved that man, and they fit together like long lost puzzle pieces. Do it for your brother, not for Zuko.”

She wipes her tears away, they stood five feet from both of our tombstones. 

“My nephew, he’s stuck in the fog of lost souls,” he said, “your brother, he was the better part of my nephew. Together, they’re whole,” he looked at her, “should we bring your friend over, the earthbender, perhaps she could help us—”

“No,” she shook her head, “I’ll do this myself.”

As she dug into the earth I felt warmth, I looked at my sister, my dear sister. Her cheeks wet, eyes puffy with tears. But I thought back to Zuko too, memories spilled over me. I thought about the yellow field of grass, the sun against our skin and how our joy filled each other’s space. _Catch_ , he said, as he threw a fig for me. He hand picked it himself. I caught it with my sacred hands.

I saw him in my memories come alive, I could clearly see him now. Zuko. My sweet lover. My other half. I watched him come alive in front of me, the sun behind him outlined his body like liquid gold. There he was, the best parts of himself highlighted. Human, blessed by a god’s touch. My fears got carried away by the winds with the golden light from both of our bodies.

I could touch him.

“Go,” Iroh spoke, “he waits for you.”

  
  


_In the thick fog, a calloused hand reached out for his better half the shook with his yearning hand. Their hands met, and fire and gold flooded like it poured out of a thousand urns._

  
  
  
  



End file.
